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by childoftheasylum
Summary: Skylar Napier, daughter of Harley Quinn and Joker, admits herself into Arkham Asylum.


**AN: This story preceeds Progeny, in the DC Superheroes category. You don't have to read it to understand the story, however. Please rate!**

"I'm not really crazy. I just think differently." Skylar knew it was a lie as soon as the words left her mouth. In fact, the longer she sat in the asylum, restricted by her straitjacket, the more she realized how much it sounded like a joke. She scanned her young doctor's face for a reaction and was disappointed to find absolutely nothing. Over time, she had developed the habit of reading faces to gauge her remarks. Her former doctor had a face for everything, and while it discouraged some patients from talking, Skylar found it convenient. Anything that raised an eyebrow could easily be taken back as a joke. Dr. Jonathan Crane, however, was not as transparent. He wore the same attentive expression throughout the entire discussion. Honestly, Skylar could have sworn the man didn't even blink. It was becoming a bit peculiar. Still, Skylar tried to fix her comment. "I mean, I know something's wrong. I'm here; aren't I?" she laughed. No laugh in return. No smile. She dropped the smile from her own face and straightened in her chair. "You can laugh, you know," she informed him. "It was a joke. I do that a lot. Make jokes."

"I can tell." It was the first sentence he'd spoken in quite a few minutes. There was no inflexion in his voice, no particular tone. While his voice wasn't warm, it wasn't harsh. It was a simple statement, followed by a question: "Why?"

"Why do I make jokes?" Skylar repeated. He nodded once. She shrugged, offering an awkward laugh along with it. "I always make jokes. That's what I do. The sky is blue; the grass is green; Skylar Napier makes jokes."

"You had this habit with your last doctor?" he asked, casually making the occasional note on the thick, yellow legal pad on his crossed leg. He looked like the picture of a stereotypical psychiatrist.

"Well, yeah," she admitted. "Of course, he took my jokes a lot better than you. Do you even smile?" A long deafening silence.

"What did you and he usually discuss?" Skylar sat up, face painted with mock astonishment, before answering the seemingly irrelevant question.

"Well, uh, gee, Doctor Crane, I'm not sure. But, uh, I suppose if I get a chance to speak to him again, I'll let ya know."

"So this is just your way of circumventing questions you don't feel like answering." He silently watched her, waiting for a response. She squirmed uncomfortably beneath the confines of her straitjacket, stomach churning, skin burning, throat suddenly parched. The air seemed a bit thicker to her. Warmer. It was then that Skylar began to understand that Doctor Crane knew her in a way she wasn't quite sure she was comfortable with.

"You're good," she finally remarked, her voice sounding dry and forced. "I see why they pay you the big money."

"Was that a joke, too?" Skylar's lips curled up slightly at what she believed was simply dry humor. He glanced at his watch. "Well, we're almost done here," he said. He stood and put his notes back in his briefcase. "So I just need to ask a couple of questions about your previous treatments."

"Fire away."

"You're still on the basics, right?" he asked. "Antidepressants and all. I'm assuming so."

" 'Course."

"Typically I prescribe an extra drug for patients in your…circumstances."

"Well, just add it to my chart and my secondary—"

"That won't be necessary," he quickly interrupted."I administer it personally."

"One session and the man's already druggin' me up," Skylar joked, adding, "Hey, that reminds me: Do you think you could prescribe me some pot?"

"No. Now, I'm not starting you on it today, and of course, when you start, it won't be a full dosage."

"Whatever, dude. Anything for a quick high." If Jonathan was fed up with Skylar's incessant joking, he didn't show it in the least bit. He simply looked at her. With neither a smile nor a frown on his face. He was always blank.

"Any questions for me?" He asked the question only as part of the routine. It was clear from his tone that he expected the answer to be "no".

It was for this reason alone that Skylar asked, "What happened to my last doctor?"

"They removed him?"

"Ol' Watson got put out the pasture? What for?"

"Any other questions" was the disappointing answer he chose to give her. As she sat quietly regarding the curious doctor, Skylar began to realize that she had more than could be answered.

"Too many," she finally said, both slowly and carefully.

"Don't worry about them," he said, preparing to leave. "I have a feeling things are about to become very clear for you."

"An epiphany."

"More like sudden shock."


End file.
